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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032267">Of Souls and Second Chances</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphianassa/pseuds/iphianassa'>iphianassa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:29:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphianassa/pseuds/iphianassa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mordecai wins back his soul and claims his own future for the first time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Yuletide 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of Souls and Second Chances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhoguards/gifts">shewhoguards</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Before</b>
</p>
<p>The woman’s fur tunic should have ruffled in the wind that Mordecai could feel whipping past his face and around his ears, but it somehow remained immobile. Mordecai sighed, his breath stolen by the wind. Eleven. He hated it here. Everything was manufactured, and you couldn’t trust your senses. Really that was the most unsettling part, he decided. That you didn’t know if what you were seeing and feeling was real. It was enough to drive one mad after a while. Somehow even working for the Wraith felt better than working for the Dright. At least the Wraith was just a man with the usual means of control -- threats, blackmail, violence….The Dright’s unusual skills kept Mordecai trapped in a much more tangled web. How could you fight against someone who owned your very soul? </p>
<p>Mordecai eyed the woman critically, realizing he wasn’t certain she even existed, or if she was just a different manifestation of the Dright himself. That old collector of souls used to feed his power, perhaps this woman had not truly lived for some time. The thought made Mordecai shudder, though he tried to suppress it. Any sign of weakness could be fatal in Eleven. If you weren’t careful the Dright could know a thought nearly as soon as you’d had it. </p>
<p>The woman looked at him curiously, and Mordecai saw the three men who usually accompanied her crane their heads in his direction. </p>
<p>“Report on DeWitt?” the woman said blandly enough, and Mordecai felt a rush of relief that she had not done anything out of the ordinary. Just as soon as he was certain of feeling the relief he tamped that down too. Any feelings were dangerous in Eleven. He needed to report and get out as quickly as possible so as to not arouse suspicion. </p>
<p>“Nothing new,” he said curtly. “DeWitt will take a trip to Series Three the week after next, as I reported during my previous visit. The Wraith still eludes his grasp.”</p>
<p>The woman peered at him in that unsettling way which always made the hairs on the back of Mordecai’s neck stand up, but there was evidently nothing she could find amiss with his statement -- he had spoken the truth, after all -- so she dismissed him, and Mordecai stole his way out of Eleven as fast as he could, fighting the urge to run. It would do him no good, after all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>After</b>
</p>
<p>“Does he know the implications?” DeWitt eyed Mordecai with a new sort of look on his face. Not quite fear, but a wariness that hadn’t existed between them before. Now not only did DeWitt know Mordecai had betrayed him, but now Mordecai had seen him stripped down to his parts, as a vulnerable and lost young boy, his lives scattered to the related worlds. If only he knew how fragile Mordecai felt, perhaps DeWitt would not be so self-conscious. Mordecai had no interest in reliving what had happened in Eleven, and no great interest in spirit traveling ever again, truth be told. He was grateful to have escaped with his life, if not his soul. At first having his soul freed from the Dright had been enough, even if it now belonged to a young boy. Now Mordecai didn’t dare to hope that more could be done.</p>
<p>“No, Christopher spoke only to free me from the Dright. His thoughts were not of enslavement.”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” DeWitt said, looking grave. “He shall have to be told.”</p>
<p>Mordecai hesitated. “Is there a way to extricate my soul from his possession without informing him?” he looked at DeWitt directly for the first time since their return to Chrestomanci Castle. “No offense meant, but I would prefer not to worry about my soul being taken hostage any longer. If there were a spell-”</p>
<p>DeWitt dismissed this with a wave of his hand. </p>
<p>“No, impossible without his willing involvement. But do you fear the boy? I thought you were his greatest advocate? Even when others despaired of his top loftiness, you always defended him, though little did we know you two were acquainted. Not to mention that after the truth came out about Ralph Argent, you defended Christopher’s involvement.” </p>
<p>“No, I don’t fear him,” Mordecai hesitated, how could DeWitt understand the power Christopher held? He was not only a nine lived enchanter, but a spirit walker of such talent as Mordecai had not known existed. Of course the two were linked, but it was still unsettling to find such ability in a boy of such tender years. Even though he knew Christopher to be an unwitting participant in his uncle’s gang -- he had never known his role in the Wraith’s operation, Mordecai had been sure of that -- something stopped Mordecai from approaching Christopher on such a weighty subject as the possession of Mordecai’s own soul. Just for once, he wondered bitterly, what would it mean to have his soul freed and all to himself? Would he feel different? More whole? Certainly his mind could finally rest, he would be free of the anxieties and sinking sense of doom that had always surfaced when he thought about the future.</p>
<p>“Call him in.” Mordecai said, with a certainty he did not feel. </p>
<p>DeWitt quirked an eyebrow. “Are you certain?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Mordecai had spoken before he even realized. He really was Christopher’s man, and while he would rather prove that without his soul hanging in the balance, he didn’t fear Christopher. Years of fear had conditioned him to mistrust, but it was time to reclaim his right to own future, to his own self.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>It seemed as though every occupant of the castle made an excuse to stand in front of DeWitt’s office door that day. The whispers carried between the servants who had overheard Rosalie talking to Flavian about the transfer of Mordecai’s soul which Christopher managed to have in his power. After nearly two hours had passed, the door was flung open, and a bright-eyed Mordecai stood, scanning the assembled crowd. His gaze slid right past the various footmen, the maidservants and bureaucrats until he found his quarry.</p>
<p>Miss Rosalie extended a trembling hand to pluck at his sleeve, “Mordecai?” she asked, her voice breathless in her anticipation.</p>
<p>But Mordecai's eyes stood fast on one person. Someone who stood frozen in front of him, an expression of hope and tenderness in his eyes that Mordecai had not dared to see before. He opened his mouth to speak and in his voice was a question.</p>
<p>“Flavian?”</p>
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